


Only Human

by rayisokay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Firefly Quotes, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I mean i ship it but there's no actual romance written, Implied Relationships, Not Romance, One Shot, Well sorta happy i think?, anxiety attacks aren't a happy thing but friendships and Firefly references are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9462068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayisokay/pseuds/rayisokay
Summary: There's only so many worries, hurts, and what-ifs that the human heart can take before it completely cracks open.





	

Their last mission hadn't gone as planned. 

Hunk and Lance were stationed by Blue, ready to shoot any guards who would trail behind Pidge and Keith as they made a run for it. In Pidge's hand was a hard drive, or some Altean equivalent, that contained coordinates to the camp her brother and father had been sent to. 

One of the guards made his way ahead of Pidge and Keith. Lance shot him in the back before he could even turn to take aim at the other two paladins. But the guard fell forwards, landing directly in Pidge's path. 

She tripped. The hard drive flew from her fingers and skidded somewhere underneath the blue lion. 

“The coordinates!” Her shout echoed against all the metal around them, and she burst ahead, as if she could reach the drive before a Galra’s blaster reached her. A hand grabbed her shoulder, shoving her towards the lion's mouth instead. 

“You won't reach it in time,” Keith urged. “Get in the lion, now!” 

She choked out cries about losing the best lead they had on her family, but with Keith pulling her along, the four paladins scrambled into the safety of the blue lion for escape. 

There wasn't much to say on the flight back to the castle. Keith was fuming, Pidge looked on the verge of tears, and Lance tried to think of anything but the way he screwed up.

 

* * *

 

Pidge wasn't a people person. She didn't like the way conversations made her vulnerable, and she'd rather make a sarcastic remark than be open with someone. Even decoding a Galra firewall was easier than figuring out another person's emotions. 

But Lance was easier to read than most. Maybe it was due to the significant amount of time they'd spent together; even at the Garrison, he'd go out of his way to spend time with his newest teammate. But really, Pidge thought that he just wore his heart on his sleeve. 

Either way,  _ something _ was wrong, and Pidge was going to get to the bottom of it.

 

* * *

 

Lance couldn't breathe. His chest heaved, but the air wouldn't come; instead, he choked on the thick tears that had been gathering at the back of his throat since they landed. His sister always told him that if he didn't clear his head first, he'd never catch his breath. But while meaning well, she just didn't get it. He couldn't clear his head when it was flooded with everything and nothing. Because he thought of everything, nothing came as a clear thought.

_ I shouldn't have shot that Galra. Pidge wouldn't have lost her information if it weren't for me. I shouldn't have been the pilot. Shiro would be a more reliable pilot. He would be a better shot too. I'm no sharpshooter. Who was I kidding? I shouldn't even be here. Voltron deserves better. I can't do it. I don't know what to do. I can't do this. I can't do this. I'm so dumb. I can't- _

“Lance?” 

The soft voice cut through his thoughts like a knife through a tough knot. His breath caught in his throat and his face got even hotter than it was. Pidge shouldn't have been there. She shouldn't have seen him at his lowest like that; his lips were chapped, eyes bloodshot, and the snot was draining both out his nose and down the back of his throat, until it blended with the tears and saliva that were already there. He had always been tall, but with her there, peering at him from the behind the pilot's seat, he never felt so small. Or maybe it was the fact that his knees had been pulled to his chest and she was still standing. 

Seeing her there started another wave of tears. A whole new type of panic came with knowing that someone else could see the thing he hated the most. His breath quickened again, coming out loud and shaky. 

“Lance, oh my gosh.” Pidge rushed in front of him, crouching to become shorter; he was more used to having her head below his, and the familiar height difference would have been comforting if he wasn't already so far gone. She tried looking up at him, but he turned his face into his knees. 

“ _ Lance.  _ Look at me.” That time, she grabbed his head in her two hands forcing him to face her. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't wearing her glasses. Did she not take the time to put them back on? 

He didn't want to look her in the eye, and he looked everywhere else first: her helmet hair, her frown, the freckles that had slowly faded since they'd been away from the sun. Finally, he looked at her eyes, afraid of the pity or judgement he'd see. 

He didn't. 

They were wide, as usual, filled with understanding. And he was scared of what that meant. 

Pidge, closer than ever, would have been blind to not see everything on his face. His chin wrinkled; he felt gross. 

As if reading his mind, she let go of his face, only to take the hem of her shirt in her fingers. Startled, Lance turned away. 

“It's okay, I've got a tank top on underneath. Here. Use this.” 

He felt fabric against the back of his hands. Her shirt was being shoved to him like a wad of tissues. Lance hated the idea of using her only shirt as a kleenex, but he hated the idea of her staring at his snotty face even more, so he took it. He wiped his face as slowly as he could, using the shirt as a mask as he brought it over his eyes, nose, and mouth. 

“There. That's at least a little better, isn't it? It usually helps for me if I have something to wipe my face. I mean, the problem or feeling may not be completely gone, but at least I'm not choking on my own snot at that point, right? Speaking of, don't just wipe your face, blow your nose. It helps. If only the kitchen wasn't so popular on this ship. I'm no Hunk, but making peanut butter cookies is kinda therapeutic. But only if I'm alone. So that's probably out of the question here.” Her eyes had wandered to the side as she rambled on, but Lance could tell she was still watching him carefully. 

Before he even realized it though, his breathing had slowed. Pidge had to have been the least affectionate person he knew and yet, sitting with her there, rambling without a single question or judgement, and Lance was glad he wasn't alone. 

“You know what else helps? Water. Cold. My throat always feels all slimy after crying. And I get this gross taste in my mouth.” She stood, and hesitantly placed a small hand on his still armored shoulder. “Stay here. Imma go to the kitchen to get a glass.” 

Lance didn't move, even when he heard her trip over the helmet he had tossed across the cockpit earlier. He didn't know what to think. Was Pidge saying she broke down in the same way? They were so different. But nothing else would have explained her words, actions, or eyes. 

A few minutes later, he could hear her enter the lion again. “Here you are,” she said, handing him a glass of ice water. 

It was cool in his hand, and wet with condensation. He gulped it down gratefully. It did wonders for the taste in his throat and the heat of his body. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Quiet. Raspy. But a word nonetheless. 

“That's what I'm here for,” Pidge said, taking her spot in front of him again. “So. Are you able to talk to me now? If you can't, that's fine. But it's not gonna go away if the thoughts stay in your head, never going anywhere else. And I don't think Alteans were big on journals, or I'd get you one.” 

Lance could only stare blankly at her. Apparently she did know what she was talking about. So, he spoke. His voice was quiet, and it cracked from having only been used to cry just minutes before, but he told her. He relayed the thoughts that had crowded his mind after the mission, and fought the tears that came with remembering those feelings. 

“Hey,” she said softly. One hand went to his shoulder. The other took the glass from his trembling fingers and set it on the ground beside her. She smiled up at him. “You did nothing wrong, and I don't blame you at all for what happened. If anything, you saved my neck back there.”

Lance averted his eyes from hers. His voice had already been rough, but it got even quieter. “What if I'm not meant to even be out here?” he whispered. His words were barely a response to anything she said; the thoughts had been building in the back of his mind since months beforehand. “I'm not- not special or anything. Allura and Coran obviously belong here — their race literally built the lions. Keith's galra. Shiro has his arm. Heck, even Hunk has an alien girlfriend.” 

“Are you saying there's something wrong with being human?” 

“It's not that, I just-” 

“Wish you were more?” 

She didn't need a response. His silence was an answer enough. 

“Look, Lance. There's nothing wrong with being human. I'm only human too, and I'm the one who tripped. And no one else on this ship could pilot the blue lion better than you. After all, you're the  _ coolest _ guy I know.” Her eyes turned upwards at his barely there chuckle. Even if he had been at his worst just moments before, a bad pun could get a reaction. “Besides. I memorized enough numbers to give Allura an estimate for those coordinates. No power in the ‘verse can stop me.” Pidge grinned up at Lance as if sharing a joke. When she got no response she frowned. “Lance. Don't tell me you've never seen Firefly?” 

He looked back at her in shock. What was she even talking about? “Um. No?” 

“Well there's your problem. It's basically cowboys. In space. And- well. It's something you need to watch for the full experience. But first,” she paused, and stood up to be taller than him again, “we need to get you cleaned up for real. Even the best snotty shirt can't replace a good shower.” 

Lance only looked up at her. He didn't want to move. Crying made him tired, and worse still, crying in front of people made him embarrassed. 

But that never could stop Pidge. She used both hands to pull him up by the shoulders. “Come on. Up. I'll walk you. Let's go.” She continued to utter quiet encouragements as she led him out of his lion, through the castle, and to the paladin showers. “I'll be in my room. I want you to stop by when you're done, okay?” 

Lance only nodded. A long, hot shower did sound nice. It felt nice too, he thought as the water poured over him. Too soon, the shower was over. With damp hair, clean pajamas, and shuffling footsteps, he made his way to Pidge's room. 

As soon as she opened her door, he had his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. He buried his head in her hair; it was a bit greasy from being in a sweaty helmet, and it stuck up to tickle his nose, but he didn't care. “Thank you,” he whispered, unsure if she'd even hear him. 

She did. Pidge smiled into his chest and hugged him back. “Any time.” 

The two went into her room to her bed, where they sat together. They didn't speak, but held each other. After his unrelenting thoughts, the silence was welcome. And he never would forget those thoughts, or the breakdown that came with them; that probably wouldn't be the last of them either. 

But in that moment, he wasn't alone, and somehow that was all that mattered. 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have no idea how showers would work on the castle   
> Omg someone give these kids space Netflix and running water


End file.
